Sometimes I find the weight of the knowledge that my father thought his proudest achievement in life were his children an unbearable responsibility.
Last night I had a dream in which I was my father. It was an interesting and intense dream worthy of my father's imagination.
My father had a nice way with words. One of the saying he used to say was "je moet niet vragen naar de bekende weg," which roughly translates to "don't ask questions to which you already know the answer." Strangely, whenever he would say that to me it was never a good thing to hear, but when I think of it now it makes me smile.
I think that after three years I've managed to galvanize the pain, sadness and longing to sit across from him and just talk, into a bittersweet happiness of having known him and be raised by him. I still miss him, though.